Missing in Action
by Silver Cress
Summary: What exactly happened at the end of Vashyron and Zephyr's first meeting? How did they came to trust each other afterwords? A new interpretation of plot gaps and events within the game with a bit of a twist.
1. In the Beginning

I noticed and was left hungry for all the little gaps in the plotline they left throughout the game. Here we explore what exactly happened at the seminary after Vashyron and the Cardinal attempted to subdue Zephyr and how he didn't die after being shot. Also explains how in the next story he ends up with Vashyron. Enjoy ~

Resonance of Fate characters belong to their respective owners.

* * *

Vashyron couldn't stop himself from shaking; there was nothing that could explain what they were witnessing. A million different thoughts were racing through his mind, a thousand different possibilities and a hundred excuses to explain this situation. He should be dead! Had the two rounds used been defective somehow? Had his gun malfunctioned? No. Everything had been thoroughly checked and then double checked before coming here, this kind of mission would be deadly if even an experienced hunter came unprepared.

So then why? Why was this kid still alive!

The boy groaned, whimpering and shaking on the hard stone. His hands clutched at his head, and even unconscious he continued to mutter what were nothing but random phrases to the two men standing next to his body. Cardinal Lagerfeld stood next to Vashyron, claiming that it was his fault this… this monster or whatever it was, still breathed. Had judgment been passed on this boy, was this the will of god?

God. The blonde laughed nervously. He had believed in a god once, but that was a long time ago now. His faith had died with the rest of his team. Or had it died with Victor? There was also a good chance that his own survival of that ordeal defied the very ideals of death and god itself. Vashyron suddenly felt a strange sense of familiarity in this uncertain situation, except now _he _was the one hell bent on killing his target. In a way this kid was like himself, on the losing end of a war he couldn't hope to survive let alone make a living in. Given a second chance by god or whatever deity had taken pity on him.

"We can't just leave him here! We have to kill him, finish him off!" cried the Cardinal. When Vashyron didn't move the old man made a grab for his gun, tearing it from the blonde's still shaken grip and aiming it at the boy's head, then re-directing it to his heart.

"We'll make sure he dies this time, I'll kill him as many times as it takes. Only then will his sins be forgiven."

The Cardinal drew the trigger back and the bang of the gunshot which followed echoed off the walls of the seminary.

But the deadly iron uselessly rebounded off the stone several feet from its intended mark leaving the boy untouched. Lagerfeld blinked in surprise, staring at the hand on his wrist. Vashyron wasn't even sure why he had done it himself, but he had intercepted at the last second. His body was no longer shaking, and his brown eyes were focused intently on the body beneath him.

"What do you think you're doing!" Lagerfeld yelled, anger in his voice, "We have to _kill_ him!"

Vashyron tightened his grip on the Cardinal's wrist, making the old man snarl and pull away from him. The hunter kneeled, reaching out towards the kid and then hesitating. What _was _he doing again? The creature whimpered again, curling in on itself tighter.

Well, if it really was the will of god or just sheer, unnatural interference then he would be an idiot to defy it wouldn't he?

"It's bad luck to refuse a miracle handed down by god himself, don't you agree Cardinal?"

Vashyron leaned over the boy, collecting him in his arms and lifting him off the concrete.

Lagerfeld regained his courage enough to grab the other man by the sleeve of his jacket, halting him. "What do you think you're doing Vashyron?"

"Well we can't just leave him here to die-"

"He'll die anyways, there is nowhere for a demon like that to live. He doesn't belong with the rest of us, where will you take a murderer? Who would be willing enough to throw away?"

Vashyron looked down at the figure in his arms. He seemed much less dangerous now then he had before, the way he was shivering and clinging to the man made him even seem almost harmless.

"I'll take him home. He'll stay with me."

"Are you _mad_?"

The blonde turned, his eyes meeting the Cardinal's with a casual glance.

"These days who isn't?"

"This wasn't part of the job, you were supposed to subdue it remember? Not adopt it! You won't get any money from us!"

"Keep it, I'll take him instead. I can do more with a slave then I could with your dirty cash any day."

Vashyron pulled away from the older man, taking steady steps towards the exit. He really was losing it wasn't he? In what possible way was this a good idea?

"Stop hunter!"

He heard the sound of quick movement, the click of the gun as it was aimed at his back. Vashyron stopped. Awe shit, it was going so well up to this point, why did the Cardinal have to go and wreck it? There was absolutely no way he was going to die for someone he didn't even know for sure was human. Nuh uh. Not gonna' happen. Not a chance in hell.

"Shoot me then." Damnit.

"You'll regret this." The Cardinal warned.

This was an easy thing to do. Just put the kid down, let the crazy old guy kill him, claim a shitload of money to spend on women and wine, and then live his life like only a normal, ignorant hunter could.

"When the time comes I might, but I guess I'll let god decide that for me when it does."

He started walking again, nearly sure enough that the Cardinal wouldn't shoot him to proceed calmly, yet not so sure that he wouldn't as to slow his pace. It was now official, he was definitely a madman.

* * *

So :3 this is my first Fanfiction posted on this site. I was a little taken aback because I wrote this two days ago and was inspired to post it but then I realized I had to wait out the whole weekend so I could host the stories here. Q Q

This story of course came from my first playthrough of RoF which I had just completed a few days ago now. I have felt the want to write fanfictions before but just not quite this much. Think of this game as the one that pushed me over the edge. :D

On a more important note, I know that this story lacks detail, and if I guess some people were really bugged by it I would add it, but it's a mistake I often forget. Let me know what you think and if you have any requests or just want more more more then send me a mssg or leave a comment saying so. I am very eager to do a separate story about zephyr and vash getting together, there is a bunch of fluff and shonen-ai type stuff going on but nothing that actually has them getting together. I want to challenge myself to do it in-character too.


	2. Zephyr Awakens

Okay welcome back! This bit covers the morning after Vashyron brings Zephyr home for the first time. Because they never explained any of this in the plotline of RoF it gave me lots of room to make up my own stuff! We get to see a little more of Vasheron's serious side and a bit of his comical side too this time. If you have skipped straight here without reading the first chapter you should be okay by filling in some of the reference gaps with guesswork without having to read it if you don't want to. Enjoy ~

Resonance of Fate characters belong to their respective owners.

* * *

Scratch that, he was no madman. He was a raving _lunatic_. Vashyron stared down at the young figure lying on his couch. At first he had planned on pawning the kid off somewhere, but the Cardinal's words had at least some truth backing them. It wasn't like he could go and drop this kid in an orphanage somewhere and it was even less of an option to leave someone this dangerous on the streets. At the same time…

The blonde looked around the crudely decorated building he had come to call home. It wasn't much but it was his own personal, private space; he liked it the way it was. And now he had brought home a rabid stray to sleep at the end of his bed and eat the same food from the same table as himself. Oh this _was_ a well thought out plan wasn't it?

He sighed and dropped himself onto the coffee table across from the temporary bed of his new pet, leaning his tired head against his palm. It was nearly morning already, rays of sunshine warming the cool room and giving the scene a sort of surreal look. The sunlight reflected off of the feathery, golden hair that lined the boy's face. If he had not seen the carnage himself, or if he had not seen the way animal-like way this thing moved during their earlier fight, then he would have thought him no different than any other boy his age. It was hard enough even believing this child was capable of doing what he did even though he _had _seen it.

Vashyron yawned, his jaw cracking with relief. Well, no point in worrying about it now. Besides, he had much more to worry about then the whys and the hows, it was too much thinking to do all in one night. Things like what exactly he was planning to do from here on, or even what he was going to do when the boy woke were of a much higher priority. A shower, or a bath first most likely, he decided. Both of them were covered in blood, sweat and grime, and his muscles were stiff from carrying that little body all the way here. He was definitely heavier than Vashyron would have guessed him to be. And then both of them were very tired, having not slept for a decent amount of time thanks to having to take nearly the entire night to locate this kid. As the room warmed, Vashyron's eyelids drooped. His brown eyes watched his newly found companion for any kind of movement, his senses dulled with sleeplessness but always alert.

He was not sure at which point he had fallen asleep, but the soft sound of movement on the couch dragged his conciseness from the darkness with a jolt. The sudden movement spooked the blurry shape on the couch, and it pounced - literally pounced, like a _cat_ – right at him. Instinctively, in his groggy state, his hand went to the holster at his hip. He swore to himself. That bastard Lagerfeld still had his pistol. The boy crashed into Vashyron and the two fell backwards, flipping the coffee table and landing in a heap. It was a mess of arms, legs, and scattered sheets of paper as they fought to pin the other down first. Vashyron hissed when his shin banged against the corner of the overturned wood furniture, but summoned enough strength to push the kid away from him and leap to his feet.

He made a break for the desk in the corner of the room, next to the stairs, grabbed and spun with his spare pistol in his hand pointed at the boy.

"Okay stop moving around or get a bullet in your head, what's it going to be?"

Luckily, the young blonde saw reason and didn't come charging at him, instead choosing to freeze midstride and slam his foot down to stop himself from toppling over. His back was to Vashyron, so he hadn't been chasing after him in a fit of an attempt to kill the man after all. He was however, facing the door, mere feet from it in fact. Had he been trying to escape?

"Look just turn around, sit back down on the couch, and we can talk about this like civilized men having a nice chat over tea."

The boy turned, his blue eyes narrowed in a deadly glare.

"Why should I do that?"

"Oh so you can talk, I wasn't sure with all the growling and the-"

"You're trying to kill me." he barked back.

Vashyron held up his free hand in defense.

"Correction, I thought I _did_ kill you. But then _you _pulled some magical voodoo shit and came back to life. Maybe you can explain _that _first."

The stray blinked, his eyes which had been scanning the room until now, probably looking for cover to duck behind in case he fired or a safer escape route, stopped and focused on Vashyron.

"I what?"

"You heard me. I put a gun in your mouth, shot you," he made a make-believe gun with his free hand, snapping it a couple of times as if firing rounds, "twice in fact, and now here you are in my living room healthy and very much alive. Explain."

The glare hardened, the boy practically growled and he took a step back, towards the door.

"You are lying."

"I'm not-"

"You are! Your job is to kill me, you get paid then right? Or do you need me alive?"

Vashyron shot an annoyed look at the boy. This was going nowhere. He sighed, running a hand through the hair which hung in his eyes thanks to the lack of ponytail to hold it back, and smiled.

"All right, if it makes you feel any better I'll lower my gun, hell I'll even back off with the interrogation. But you should know if you run, I'll shoot you. And if you attack me, I'll shoot you. Basically, if you do anything suspicious at all, _I'll shoot you_. Got it?"

After a few seconds of silence, something in the boy gave in and his shoulder slumped, his voice hoarse and much quieter now.

"Whatever."

He lowered the gun, watching the kid for any kind of sign that he was going to attack him or bolt. If he did manage to escape, Vashyron would just hunt him down and kill him. This was his responsibility now, the stray dog he took in himself and decided to look after. If this guy got out and murdered anyone else their blood would be on his hands for letting the boy live. Once more, he patted himself on the back for his stunning ability to come up with the most reliable and well thought-out plans.

"Alright then, I'm going to take a shower. You, sit down and make yourself comfortable, you're going to be here for a while."

* * *

Okay so yeah, I think I may have gone a bit too out of ooc here... but if it's too big of a problem please tell me _how _it can be fixed not just that it sucks. The next chapter is about how Vashyron started to trust Zephyr, it's yet another way out there guess on the situation.


	3. A Tender Peace

**A/N: Alright! Snippet number three guys :D**

**The long awaited third chapter! You guys are gonna hate me for this, because it has been sitting in my to-finish folder mostly completed for some time, I hit a rock wall and gave up- sorry about that! With some review and minor fixes (albeit some hair-tearing due to my switch in writing style) the chapter is ready to be released! Followed by another if I can get around to it later today! I wrote them all out by hand on the bus (got on an older bus with no plugins and my laptop is crappy so it only lasts an hour wahoo...). But anyway, on with chapter 3!**

**Please feel free to leave comments and speak your mind! I'm always open to suggestions and whatnot, but grammar and punctuation don't particularily count here because every author has a different writing style so try to keep that in mind.**

_Zephyr, Vashyron and other elements relating to Resonance of Fate the video game belong to Square Enix and aligned third parties._

* * *

Zephyr moaned and rolled over in his sleep, it was way too early to get up right now. The blinding sunlight that filtered in through the windows disagreed with him. By the temperature of the room and the angle of the light the drowsy blonde guessed it was probably sometime after noon. Just as he had closed his eyes and began drifting off to sleep, the old but soft material of the couch soothing his senses, a heavy weight dropped onto the cushion next to him.

His much smaller body was vaulted off of its bed and landed with a hard thud on the floor. Zephyr groaned again, sitting up and glaring at the older man.

"Look who's finally dragged himself out of bed! Good morning Zephyr."

When he did not respond, Vashyron shrugged it off with a laugh – an increasingly annoying laugh – and then stood and headed back toward his room with an equally annoying grin.

"I've got another job today so I wanted to make sure you remember what I've told you-"

"I know I know!" the teen interrupted, "Run and I'll shoot you, attack and I'll shoot you, do anything even slightly suspicious, and _I'll shoot you_. Right?"

"Your impression of me gets better every day."

"Thanks."

Vashyron raised an eyebrow at him, but Zephyr chose to ignore it and flip on the TV to distract himself. He wasn't sure when he had started talking back to the man like a normal human being; it was probably after the dinner incident a week and a half ago. He shuddered at the memory. In the first few days he had been here, Zephyr had rejected food and any kind of comfort, and so in retaliation Vashyron had assaulted him and forced the food down his throat anyway. And so while Zephyr reserved to eating as far away from Vashyron as he could manage, he still ate.

They had only been together for a short time, and already Zephyr had thought himself more accustomed to Vashyron's habits. The usual cheery air about the man was hard to ignore, and it hadn't been long before Zephyr had started to grow comfortable. Maybe Vashyron's constant rambling had taken his mind from the incident enough to make it seem more like a dream than reality, which in turn allowed him to, at least for a few minutes at a time, forget.

Zephyr had been surprised he had gone so long without being… what exactly, he didn't know. Vashyron had not attacked him yet, and in fact had not even asked Zephyr to give himself to him or had even claimed he owed anything of value to him. There was only one rule, or a threat as it seemed, and that was no leaving and no hidden agendas involving sneak attacks or trickery. The older blonde had made it very clear that he could easily hunt him down again just as he had the before, and that this time there would be no second chances. No miracles and no god, just death.

What was so wrong with that? Why the hell was he so damned _scared _of dying? Sitting on the couch while his "companion" was out and rarely moving from that spot left him with a lot of time to think, and he spent most of that time going over and over again in his mind what he had done. Why should he go on living now, when they couldn't? However as the days went on, he began to wonder why he _hadn't _died that day, as he should have. Was it some kind of sign or message? Not really being the religious type nor willing to even believe in some "higher power at work", the teen tossed that idea aside immediately. Was Vashyron even telling him the truth about his reasoning behind letting him live? It was a possibility that the man was only telling him those things so that he wouldn't kill himself or let the threats that held him there fall flat.

The door opening so abruptly had Zephyr on his feet in an instant, ready to attack any intruder that had wandered into the house. It really didn't help with the anxiety of being trapped inside when Vashyron would go on about the time a gremlin had managed to find its way in on its own. The blonde had no weapons left to him, and if an enemy of some kind ever tried to rob the house, what the hell was he supposed to do?

To his relief the one who came through the door in the end was none other than Vashyron himself. Zephyr dropped from his ready position back into the safe corner of his couch. He expected the normal 'I'm home sweetie!' that he had been receiving almost every day for the last few weeks, but the man only turned, locked the door, and crookedly managed his way toward the corner under the staircase.

"Are you drunk again?"

It was not unusual for Vashyron to come home after investing a good amount of money into wine and other drinks, but trust Zephyr when he said that the man was just as good a shot in this state as he was when sober. Vashyron turned slightly, looking over his shoulder and raising not one, but both his eyebrows this time.

"What gave you that impression dear?"

"Excuse me?" Zephyr leaned forward and glared, "I'm not your wife you know."

"Right… sorry about that."

No comments, no denial, no biting argument, no nothing. The surprised look on his face must not have been what Vashyron expected because he let out a chuckle and turned back to whatever it was he was fiddling with. The teen narrowed his eyes at the back of the man, unsure if the apology had been sincere or if he was just teasing him again. He _was _sure though, that Vashyron had come home tonight empty handed.

"Are we planning on eating tonight or did you spend all our money on getting drunk and swooning women with your oh so manly charms?"

The hunter flinched, stopping whatever he was doing to sway a little. He caught himself on the counter just in time to not topple over and kill himself on all the dangerous looking materials there.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Vashyron's normally heavy voice was rasp, higher then usual, and after clearing his throat he continued, "I'm fine just a little sore from the last one and had a lot too much to drink. I think I'll just… go to bed early tonight. Make sure to get yourself something to eat."

Before Zephyr could reply, or complain which was much more likely, the blonde man finally managed to reach his room on the opposite side of the house and closed it behind him. The younger one laughed under his breath, it was about time that jerk got what was coming to him.

Now was a good time to leave. Vashyron was bound to pass out at any moment, and by the time he awoke and recovered from what would probably be a massive hangover Zephyr figured he could be long, long gone. Not even the great Vashyron, master hunter could track a prey after it had made so much distance. Or could he? And where exactly would Zephyr go? He needed to gain the man's trust, get him to lengthen the leash on his collar bit by bit until he was free enough to make a run for it.

He lazily got up off the couch, still sore after sitting in the same position for so long. He was already making plans to go through the strangely familiar cupboards when a glint of light caught his eye. Curiously, he wandered towards it, nearly hopeful but not entirely willing to believe in the small chance. There, on the surface next to the stairs where Vashyron had been standing only moments before was a gun. Zephyr still couldn't believe that Vashyron had been stupid enough to leave his gun lying around, but when he picked it up and felt the weight of the cool metal against his palm he knew it had to be real. He released the magazine, it was loaded, one bullet. He slid it back into its place with a click, examining the weapon more closely.

It was light and well made, a handgun covered in scratches and markings which indicated the well-worn use of the piece. Now with a gun in his hands, Zephyr felt less like a prisoner. He glanced towards the room where Vashyron had disappeared into only moments before. It would be easy; with a weapon he could overtake his captor and free himself. The idea was too appealing, and soon he found himself drifting toward the older man's room. He walked softly, though Vashyron had probably fallen peacefully asleep by now. It was not really his style to kill people in their sleep, but after the crimes he had committed only a few weeks ago nothing seemed morally right or wrong anymore.

The door opened with an eerie silence, Zephyr had been expecting it to creak and wake the man up, which wouldn't have mattered anyway because now he was the one in control. And he was going to be damn sure to use that advantage.


	4. Opportunity

**_A/N_: Well here I am again with another chapter I fixed up and readied for release. Enjoy~**

_Zephyr, Vashyron and other elements relating to Resonance of Fate the video game belong to Square Enix and aligned third parties._

* * *

Vashyron pressed the cloth harder against his ribs. His jacket had been tossed on the floor carelessly, where his shirt had soon after met a similar fate. Okay, so he'd admit it, sometimes even _he _got a little too arrogant for his own good. He reminded himself to make a mental note about that later so he wouldn't keep making the same mistakes. He would probably eventually remember to do that… eventually.

He chuckled a little, which ended in a choked gasp and him pressing the fabric harder against the cut. God _damn_ it hurt. Sure it would heal in a few days, and it wasn't the deepest of wounds, but it had nicked the edge of a worse wound he was still busy recovering from.

The cut started on the front of his body just under his ribs and arced down to his right hip, where a claw of the beast he had been fighting caught onto his belt and prevented any further damage. It had finally managed to land an attack against Vashyron, but in the end had condemned itself to its own death at the same time. The hired help he had dragged along with him offered no help with the fight, but at least the man was able enough to carry the body of the prized beast back to their contractor who seemed happy enough with his new trophy. He really had to put out a request of his own for a new partner. A _useful_ one would be nice.

It took him nearly forever to get himself into the least painful position possible, not even bothering with bandages or any other type of medical treatment for now. He was tired… and all the blonde wanted to do was sleep. At least Zephyr would keep it down, he seemed to be the type who could at least respect his drunken after-nap. It was probably just so Vashyron would leave him alone, but he still appreciated it.

The gentle shuffle of a light step in his direction made Vashyron flinch. He lifted his head lazily from the mattress in curiosity only to see the fair headed teen standing stiffly in the center of his room from the corner of his eye. From his position face down on the mattress, a hand firmly pressed against his side, Vashyron knew the teen could not see his wounds. He let his head fall back onto the bed facing the opposite direction of the intruder.

"Zephyr dear, good timing, I can't seem to find my pillow…"

He heard the boy move, and when he did Vashyron also heard something else. It took his tired and distracted brain only a second longer than usual to decipher the familiar sound of metal noise his gun made when it shifted in the palm of his hand, but he made no similar mistake in his movements. The older man rolled, rocking hard to the right as the weapon fired. He closed the tiny gap between them and reaching out toward the other, knocking the half re-aimed gun off its intended target all together. He then shifted his weight, hooking his leg behind the teen's as Zephyr attempted to put some distance between them, tripping and then effectively tackling the younger of the two to the ground.

Zephyr's head hit the floor hard, Vashyron's weight falling on top of him in the form of a knee to the chest, one hand pressed firmly against his throat and the other snaking it's way to his wrists and pinning them down above his head. The force of the blow knocked the gun from Zephyr's hand, as well as the air from his lungs. The gun went sliding across the floor, eventually colliding with the wall and coming to an abrupt stop.

"The _hell _ do you think you're doing!?" Vashyron growled, his voice laced with enough venom to kill.

In the moments afterward neither said nor did much of anything, both trying to recover from a state of shock. Between Zephyr's gasping attempts at getting the breath back in his body, Vashyron realized how the boy had gotten a hold of his gun and cursed himself for his stupidity.

Zephyr was dead. He was so dead. What had he been thinking coming in here like that!? What was his plan exactly? Did he think he could just waltz in here and kill the guy, run off and everything would be a-okay? The more he thought about it the more he realized he _hadn't_ been thinking. At all. But even so, he didn't want to live the rest of his life on house arrest, patiently waiting out the remainder of his days on the corner of an old, over-used sofa. On the other hand, blindly lashing out in his moment of unexpected opportunity was rather idiotic. How exactly did he think he was going to get out alive if it came down to this? Oh wait, that's right, he didn't.

He struggled, and Vashyron's grip strengthened in return, pinning him down even further.

"I said, what do you think you're doing Zephyr!? You stupid, irrational son of a bitch!"

He struggled further. He didn't want to die, especially not at the hands of some drunken, girl-chasing lunatic who kidnapped teens and forced them to live with him.

"What did I tell you would happen if you tried something like this huh?"

The hand at his throat tightened. Enraged Vashyron glared at Zephyr with an intensity he had not thought imaginable on the cheery face of his captor. Struggling now for both freedom and air, to no avail of either, the blonde choked and sputtered no word of apology or regret. If he was going to die, there was no way he was going to give this guy the satisfaction of hearing him beg for his life.

Without warning the pressure at his neck lightened, and then gave away completely. His chest was released from its torture as well, the older mercenary needing it to keep his balance as Zephyr took advantage of his momentary state of weakness. He wrenched his wrists from their bond and pulled himself out from underneath the other man. Vashyron attempted to regain the upper hand by grabbing at Zephyr's shoulder, but his weak restraint was met with a well-placed elbow to the ribs.

Vashyron cringed, the lucky hit doing more damage than it normally would have. He clutched at his side for a moment, watching as the boy stood and disappeared in mere seconds, pausing only to grab the now emptied gun. The man climbed to his feet in a fit of rage, glaring at the hole in the wall just above his bed.

"Well that's unfortunate… and I was starting to like the kid too." Too bad he was going to have to kill him now. Vashyron's pride was not about to let Zephyr get away with that, no matter what the reason had been.

He took a few minutes to create a quick makeshift bandage for his wounds, throwing back a few pills and a full glass of water for a temporary cure. He collected his ruined jacket from the floor of his room, cracking his knuckles and fixing his hair before heading out and locking the door behind him. True to his promise, Vashyron would find and take care of the little guy himself. Zephyr was his responsibility now, and he couldn't let something like him wander so freely in the open world without some kind of conscience.

* * *

**And there you have it! I've read so many stories where a conflict of this nature was set up to happen but never actually did, so I'm sorry if you would have preferred it another way but that's how the cookie crumbled... in my mind... but anyway yeah! xD Keep your eyes and ears peeled for another chapter coming soon!**


	5. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**A/N:: Alrighty, here I am back months later with yet some more updates for you guys! /Keeps getting distracted by life like a noob. At least this is a bit of a longer one, written on the bus (wahoo wifi on public transit ftw) during my eight hour ride. Enjoy~**

_Zephyr, Vashyron and other elements relating to Resonance of Fate the video game belong to Square Enix and aligned third parties._

* * *

Vashyron studied his handiwork. It was a quick fix to an urgent problem, hopefully the sloppy bandages would hold him together long enough for him to find and catch the little rascal. He grabbed an extra coat from his closet, an older one of several. A black one, the tribal tiger design on the back glaring with regal ferocity and it's claws extended toward those who saw it as a beast in mid-flight. It had been his fifty or fifty first jacket purchased from the tailors. Unfortunately for his wallet clothes didn't last very long in this business, at least he could buy cheap, white muscle shirts to wear but how could he possibly reduce himself to wearing an all-plain jacket too? That would be too... plain.

He didn't bother to lock the door, jogging down the stairs and walking calmly along the metallic sidewalk. He didn't bother with locking the door, those foolish enough to enter without permission knew their fate, at least those from this level and a few on higher platforms did. The fist victim, er, passerby he came across was an elderly man, one who walked the same path every day, stopping only to stare off into the sea of iron for a few hours. Once he'd had enough he would then turn around and repeat the process. Vashyron had seen it before, more people than he thought necessary did the exact same thing, he was pretty sure they were waiting for something, though what he couldn't be sure of.

He hated them. They acted like damned npc's, nothing more than another addition to the colorless world that had become Basil. But nonetheless, they were still a pair of eyes and a mouth. Convenient for someone who needed to know if they had seen someone go rushing by and wanted to ask about it.  
"Excuse me," he stepped into the old man's path, and when he tried to step around him Vashyron shifted with him, "I'd like to know if you've seen anything unusual lately, or anyone for that matter." The old man sighed, staring up at Vashyron from his hunched over position for many seconds before finally answering.  
"I've seen many things in my life, but distant memories quickly fading with each day spent. I have not seen anything recently though." He sighed, "Nothing at all."

Seeing that he was not getting anything useful from the old man Vashyron thanked him for his time and moved on. Nothing was right, for he bore no sight to see with. He hated them. All of them, there were no exceptions. All who he had accepted were dead, and any left with a spark in their soul had fallen to deceit or corruption, no longer worthy of his trust. The light anger burned heavy in his chest, but he ignored it for now. There were larger issues at hand.

As he reached the fork in the road Vashyron noticed a small boy. It was not the boy himself that drew his attention, but the hooded man leaned over whispering in his ear. The boy turned his head, searching and then seemingly finding none other than Vashyron himself. He nodded toward the hooded man and then made his way toward the mercenary, a skip in his step.  
"You're Vashyron right? Slayer of beast and man alike, kin to none but the reaper himself?"  
"There are some who know me by that description, why?"  
"My friend wants you to know the guy you're looking for went that way." He pointed. Vashyron's gaze followed the boy's tiny finger toward the lower district - the Basil equivalent of downtown slums. It was a good place to hide, lots of dark alleys and even more tiny places the rats could worm themselves into, not to mention all the things you could convince the residents to do for you if you wave a little cash around; a pursuer was more likely to meet his own end there than that of his prey's. Yep, it would be impossible for anyone to find you once you'd rooted yourself in there. If you were on the run from anyone else that was.

"Your friend?" The blonde looked back toward where the hooded man had been, but whoever it had been he was long gone. "Ah, never mind it's not really that important." Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if someone wanted to lend a hand then he was grateful for it. It definitely helped him narrow down the search, if he hadn't made an attempt to leave the city and make a break for the bridge yet this would be even easier than he expected. But if it was too easy, Vashyron would be disappointed.

"Thanks." He ruffled the kid's mop of brown hair, drawing forth a scowl. Maybe the world didn't have to be so crooked after all, the light in the boy's eyes had yet to be diminished.  
* * *

Zephyr ducked into an alley, narrowly dodging another group of thugs likely to delay him with delusions of finding something of value if they attacked him. Everyone looked like an enemy down here, and with good cause. He recognized several different men with several different symbols drawn in all kinds of places on their bodies, each belonging to their own organization of sorts. He had never been down here before - at least he didn't think so, his memory was a little fuzzy on some of the fine details.

He peeked around a corner, seeing no sign of life other than a stray dog digging around in an overturned trashcan. The teen approached and then passed the animal with little resistance, whatever in the garbage can much more interesting than some blonde kid strolling by. The sound of shifting paws, a scrape of metal and deep growling betrayed that thought.

Zephyr turned around, hoping that maybe a cat had wandered into it's territory and it was simply defending itself The creature's fangs dripped with saliva, it's feral gaze focused solely on Zephyr, lucky him. Wait, was that a knife in it's mouth? The boy sort of chuckled, thinking that the dog had probably picked it up out of the trashcan by accident.

It lunged, Zephyr evaded. He nearly tripped in surprise, the knife shredding through the air where he had just been. With no time to regain his balance he spun, and as the beast turned knife, growl and glare equally as deadly, zephyr ran. He ran like a little girl. Like hell he was going to fight that thing with his bear hands! Who the fuck would be that stupid!? It was a dog, with a _weapon_, as if the teeth and claws weren't enough.

The animal was hot on his heels, not hesitating to gave chase. Zephyr knew he could not outrun it, but he could try to outmaneuver it! He turned the next corner sharply, jumping and grabbing onto the bottom of a half dropped ladder suspended from a set of stairs on the outside of a building. The dog came around the corner and nearly ran by under him, but whipped around and instead leapt at him. It gained surprising height, and the teen has to curl in on himself to prevent his leg from being torn off.

He grinned, sticking his tongue out at the animal in victory before hauling himself up the ladder. His head came over the edge of the platform, and he hooked his arm on a nearby railing to haul the rest of his upper body up. Next followed his lower half. One knee in front of the othe- a deep growl drew his eyes up, and he nearly knocked heads the beast.  
"What the fu-" The thing lunged and he yelped in surprise, throwing an arm out just in time to stop the dagger from stabbing him. In the face. Yeah, that would have been inconvenient.

He rolled, the clash of metal next to him great motivation for scrambling to his feet and fleeing up the stairs much faster than he thought possible. Of course the animal wasted no time in giving chase. "Leave me alone you stupid mutt!" The beast seemed to get faster.

Okay, so persuasion was out of the question. What now? An open window, Zephyr made a break for it, the knife grinding against the rubber of his shoe as it disappeared inside the frame. He hit the floor and rolled, using his weight to push him forward into a flat out run. He opened the door and poured into the hallway. He tried the first door on his right, locked. The second one was locked as well, followed by the third and fourth.  
"Who locks doors in their own home?" He moved on. Actually now that he really thought about it he hadn't seen any furniture up to this point let alone anything to indicate anyone lived here. Dust covered the hallway floor, it had probably been abandoned for a while. The soft click of claws hitting the wood floor inside the window sent Zephyr scurrying toward the final door at the end of the hallway. The knob turned with a satisfying click, and he flew into the room at top speed, turning the corner and skidding to a halt before the gaping hole in the unfinished floorboards.

He turned on his heel, slamming the door just in time to hear a satisfying thump against the thick, oak barrier.  
"Not so smart now are you mutt?" he muttered at the door. "How did I get into this stupid situation anyway?"  
"Well that depends on your point of view."

Zephyr's attention snapped toward the voice. He was hard to make out at first, what was left of the fading sunlight cast dark shadows throughout the room. The half of the man he could see motioned toward Zephyr with his arm.  
"This the kid?"  
"Yeah, that's him." A second voice. Zephyr made out another man, no wait, two other men in the shadows behind the first.  
"Who are you?" Zephyr narrowed his gaze, trying to appear unphased by their sudden appearance. They ignored him.  
"You're sure? Why babysit such a scrawny runt it doesn't make sense."  
"To be honest boss," the third finally spoke up, "nothing around him ever made sense."  
"Ah, you're right..."

"Who are you talking about? I don't know any of you!"  
The man waved his hand. A loud crack rang throughout the room, and Zephyr fell forward in a daze. He caught himself on the floor, but his arms did not hold him and he sprawled out in an awkward position. A fourth man entered his view. In his daze Zephyr barely realized the noise had been in fact him, getting hit over the head with a piece of plywood. How classic.  
"...kill him?"

They spoke, but he was mostly unsure of their words. He could hazily make out one of the men kneeling over him, cold hands dragging across his skin. And then he saw no more.

* * *

**A/N:: So in my mind the city has to be a lot larger than the three streets you can travel on in the actual game, which I'll warn you right now might lead me to making up random cities or places in the future. Of course I'll still send them on your favorite dangerous missions and whatnot, but the levels might not be quite the way you remembered them. Repetitive scenery just doesn't cut it for writing right?**


	6. Clam Before the Store

A/N:: Hey look, a new chapter is up following five and it hasn't even been a month yet! Sorry it's a little short, about to pull into the station. :3

Vashyron ducked. A fist whistled by just above his head, cracking off a jagged piece of metal sticking out from the partically rusting wall. It was dark, but the tiny illumination recieved from the streetlight at the end of the alley was enough to make out the blood as it rolled down the man's knuckles.  
"Stop dodging my attacks prettyboy!" The drunk took another swing at him. It really wasn't his fault, Vashyron had maybe come on a little strong with the questions and invasion of personal space thing and the poor guy didn't know what he was doing.  
"Jazzy cut that out." Light filtered into the back alley and a girl emerged. Her red hair was pinned up in a bun, the excess of her long hair hanging down her back. A single secion of hair hung over her face, as it was an unruly section of hair that refused to do anything but. The man took another swing at Vashyron, who sidestepped away from him with ease. He approached the woman, who had propped the door open with a cinderblock and was busy lighting a cigarette. The smell of smoke and other not-so-legal products lofted out from the opening. Vashyron could hear the beat of music even from here in the alley, and he leaned in toward the woman.

"Hey do you remember dancing to this song together?" He leaned over her, his arm resting on the frame above her head. Her seagreen eyes displayed no change in emotion, even as he cast her his dazzling smile. She breathed out a puff of smoke.  
"If you mean willingly, then no."  
Vashyron feined a hurt look. "How could you, I never once forced anything on you you didn't know you wanted deep, eep down!" She paused, and then blew her next batch of smoke right in his face. He coughed, backing up two steps just in time to dodge the drunken bull that went staggering past in a fit of rage.  
"Stay away from my wife!" Jazzy yelled. Vashyron ignored his cries, instead pulling the woman toward himself and kissing her. She bit his lip.  
"Ow!" He pulled back but did not let go. "That's alright, I like a woman who plays hard to get." He licked his lips, leaning in to kiss her again. With a drunken howl her muscular boyfriend charged them.

Vashyron saw a flash of steel, Jazzy had pulled a dagger. Even if he was her husband he would not tolerate an attempt on his life. He stepped toward him with the intent to kill, then promptly had his legs swept out from beneath him. He landed roughly on his back on the pavement, a high-heel clacking hard against the pavement uncomfortably close to his head.

He saw white, and thought he'd hit his head. But soon realized it was just his view of the woman stepping over him. She wound, and with a half-spin kneed the other man in the stomache, smacked him in the face with her open palm, then grabbed his arm as he brought his hands up to defend himself and used the leverage to toss him through the air. He crashed into a couple of garbage cans, softening his fall. Vashyron whistled, sitting up. A highheel pressed against his chest, encouraging him to stay put. She took a long drag of her smoke and dropped the ashes next to Vashyron as she exhaled.  
"So what do you want prettyboy?"

He didn't like the nickname, given to him during his younger years spent here at the club. Her club. He tried very hard no to look up her short black skirt, he really did. The heel dug into his chest.  
"Okay okay! I give up!" Vashyron threw his hands up in mock surrender, this caused the heel to decend a little more. His face became serious, and he knew that Avril understood that playtime was over. "I'm looking for someone, was wondering if you'd heard about him."  
"Who?"  
"A little blondie. Wearing average clothes and probably looks like he's on the run from someone. New here, wouldn't know his way around but a good fighter for his age, moves like you wouldn't believe. Looks pretty wild from afar but he's just a kid, he grows on ya a little." Vashyron laughed, suddenly realizing how stupid he sounded. "Anyway can ya help me out here?"  
"What to you need him for?"  
"A little... necessary violence in this case. I owe him a favor."  
"That's it? What if I told you he's already left the city, is he worth chasing?"  
"Point me in the same direction."  
"Uhuh..." Avril stared at him, deep in thought or studying him he couldn't decide, though most likely both. Seeming to come to a decision she removed her leg from his body and grabbed his hand, helping him up. She walked over to her unconcious, drooling and babbling boyfriend, picked him up, and tossed Jazzy over her shoulder like it was nothing. He gurgled in response. "I've heard of someone like that fairly recently, maybe passed through these parts a few hours ago if I remember correctly." She rolled the cinderblock away with her foot and stepped inside the door.  
"Thanks Avril." So he was on the right trail after all. The girl stopped, holding the heavy door open with a few lingering fingers.  
"You'd better hurry though, or your so-called prey will get snatched away from you."  
"What you worried about me?" The door slammed shut behind her. "And what did you mean so-called!?"

"This is the place huh?" He double checked the address on the scrap of paper Avril had slipped him when she helped him up. To have something like that prepared beforehand, he really did wonder if she knew everything sometimes. Why was Zephyr hiding in a building like this? It was abandoned sure, but there had been several more, better locations on the way here. Oh well. He pulled a new clip from his belt, sliding it into place with a loud click. Time to show that whelp why you didn't mess with Vashyron.

A/N:: Oh snap, what now? Even I don't know until I write it!


	7. EASTER SPECIAL

**A/N:: Hey guys! So here's a little treat from me to you, a side-plot about Vashy when he was younger! I recieved an interesting e-mail from an enthusiastic fan, and since I love surprising you guys I decided writing something for the holidays was definitely necessary! Please enjoy this fanfiction special about a young Vashyron and how he earned his place among the citizens of Basel...**

* * *

Basel. The tower is home to all, a monument of humanity's last stand against fate. Those who live within the tower are blessed with perfect life: no illness, no mutation, no war. It is our salvation, the cure. But man cannot be cleansed of his own self, the pure white world carries on without regard to ruined souls. In a place where white is black and black is gray, we continue to survive...

Vashyron slapped his pencil down and crushed the piece of paper between his hands. He launched the result across the room, aiming for the garbage can. Who would read that crap? Why did anyone even care why the tower existed at all? They didn't. So why would he need to make up some bull about his own theories on the subject? The projectile arced beautifully, headed straight for the little plastic bin between his bed and his desk. It hit the desk rebounded off the wall and landed gracefully, right in a cup of water he had sitting on the corner of the desk. The cup tipped, its new found weight and momentum knocking it - and all it's contents - onto the floor.

The blonde glared, but made no move to clean it up. It was just water it wasn't like it was going to stain his old, already stained floor any worse than anything else that had been spilled in the past few years. He spent a few minutes trying to figure out if he even threw the stupid thing hard enough to commit such a feat, but soon gave up and relaxed back into the chair. He could have made the shot if he was doing this at his desk, but the teen had always found himself more relaxed and able to think in this spot.

Vashyron had never been a fan of his classes, but his aunt had always insisted he participated in the act. He had never cared for the man, but his wife had taken a six month old Vashyron in as fulfillment of his mother's apparent dying wish. The woman had raised him well enough on their meager salary despite the constant protests of a drunken husband, but it hadn't lasted long. She passed on one morning; it happened very suddenly and without explanation. One day she was there, and the next she wasn't.

It didn't take long for his so-called uncle to realize he needed a new source of income, and so he offered the then fourteen year old Vashyron a deal. He let the kid stay with him, and Vashyron helped some of his friends out with some stuff. It started out easy enough, with training. He learned to fight, to defend himself, to attack and deceive all manner of people in all sorts of ways. His uncle's "friends" were impressed with his quick growth and were eager to test him in the field.

Vashyron cried the first time he killed someone. He bawled his eyes out and was sick to his stomach for nearly a week, roaming the house with no particular thought process. The second time he threw up. The third, he enjoyed a little. It didn't take him long to climb the ladder of success (five years in and still alive is something to boast about in this line of work you know!) and it took even less time to earn more of a reputation than his uncle could ever wish to have within their little... organization. He fit in, and it really wasn't so bad once you got used to it. No really, you don't know how much fun it is slitting someone's throat until you've tried it.

A loud bang jerked him out of a good memory he was busy having, something about the interrogation of one of their rivals. His unlce enjoyed leaving the door unlocked when he left,He barely had time to retrieve his knife from the desk and turn toward the door before it burst open and in wandered a wild, dark-haired, hunched over man.  
"Leo?" Vashyron stared at the man in surprise, "What are you doing here? Wait, what's with all the blood?"  
The man opened his mouth, wheezed something incoherent, and dropped faster than a sack of potatoes. Vashyron leapt to the aid of his friend, turning him over and using the pocket knife to shred through the layers of clothing between them. The opening revealed little, blood bubbled from the wound like a fountain and left a sea of red around it.

"Damn it, I can't see it!" He looked around in a frenzy, grabbing an abandoned t-shirt off his carpet and pressing it against the gash. It didn't take long for the vibrant color to seem through. Towels. He needed towels. Vashyron started to stand, but Leo's hand caught his, pulling him close. He wheezed and choked between liquid breaths, more nonsense spilling forth from his bloodied lips.  
"...Blaze..." Choke. "Keep... safe from..." Wheeze. "Blaze... Nightingale... help you-" His friend erupted in a mix of hacking coughs and curled in on himself. Vashyron tried to pull away.  
"You need help! Let me go you idiot!"

Leo's grip tightened. The coughs subsided for the moment, leaving trails of blood down his chin. He cracked a smile, his teeth coated in the red liquid.  
"You're always acting so tough you know." His voice was hoarse, barely a remnant of the vibrant, booming voice Vashyron was used to. The man half laughed half choked, further spitting blood across his shirt. "If Shaun saw you crying over something like this..." He chuckled weakly.  
"I'm not crying, you're delusional from loss of blood, at least let me treat your wounds I'm no doctor but... but..."  
"Not crying huh? What do you call that liquid streaming down your cheeks then?"  
Vashyron's free hand flew to his face. "I am n-" He was.

What the hell? Another chuckle from his friend, and the blonde's mind returned.  
"Look here runt," Leo's breath hitched and sent him into another coughing fit. The teen tried again to remove his hand, but his mentor was attached to him with an iron grip and even managed to get his other hand wrapped around Vashyron's wrist. The blonde watched helplessly as the man shook with convulsions and deep, gasping breaths.  
"You're a good kid, I think, maybe loyal is a better term." He paused, taking a shuddering breath. "Naw, not quite the right... term... you're really just one of a kind."

"Tell me who gave you this wound!" His blood boiled, Vashyron would make the man who did this pay with his life! No, first the lives of all his men, followed by the life of his closest loved ones and family, THEN he would force him to live, after cutting out his eyes and tongue anyway.  
"Stop that."

Vashyron stared down at Leo, confused. "Stop what?"  
"Stop... staring into the distance and plotting your revenge, that's not the kind of thing I want you doing at my funeral either. Ah, if I get one at least." He laughed, wheezed, and then set off into another hysterical fit of coughing and hacking, this one worse than before.  
"Stop talking you bastard, save your energy, I'll find someone who can fix you okay?"  
"See, I knew you had brighter thoughts in your head. Sort of. But I'm sorry to tell you that we won't be needing a doctor." Vashyron began to protest but Leo butted in with another round of coughing. "I don't have a lot of... time left alright. Take this to nightingale, she's," More coughing, "an old friend of mine." He looked toward the satchel he had dropped prior to joining it on the floor. It sat lopsidedly against the door frame, the old leather bag so worn he swore he could see right through the material. Inside he saw a pair of bunnies sharing a lollipop in sugary wonder. That was definitely the loss of blood speaking. "Just don't let... Blaze get it, he can't be trusted with th-" Leo took a shaky breath, half lidded eyes filled with sadness. "I don't regret... you, anything... but I wish i didn't have to... you can handle it... You might be a runt but you've been trained by the best after all!"

"Ah, this too... please take care of it for me." Leo's hand traveled to his belt, where he was barely able to pull the colt from it's holster before pushing it into Vashyron's hand. "If it falls into disrepair I'll haunt you... just so... you know..." He managed one final chuckle under his breath, and his hands slid from Vashyron's.

The teen couldn't speak. Even when... if he could have what would he have said? Don't go? Good Luck? Enjoy the afterlife? But shouldn't he have at least have said SOMETHING? Should he be Sad? Angry? To tell the truth, he felt nothing. He was numb. He sat there for many moments, his own breathing wracking his body with painless sobs and drenching his mentor in unfelt tears. He didn't feel the weight of the gun in his hands, nor the cool touch of steel.

"Where is he!?" A faraway voice called out, followed by others shouting Leo's name. "We know you're hiding out here somewhere you bastard, now give me back what you stole from me!"  
"Sir! There's blood over here!" The voices got closer, shouting men threatening a dead man with his life. Vashyron's head snapped up toward the brown satchel. He stood, clutching the colt in his bloody right hand while he collected the source of his friend's death from the floor.

He turned, grabbing his backpack from the floor and shoving the other bag into it. He always kept this ready to go in case of a situation like this though he had expected it to be an acquaintance of his uncle's and not... whatever they were, not that it would matter in about three minutes. The voices were at the front door now. "Come out come out where ever you are! You can't hide from us Leo!"

He pulled his desk drawer clean out, reaching under the metal table and turning the latch to release a hidden compartment. He retrieved a butterfly knife, a small notebook, and a grenade from the box there, placing the first two in his backpack. They were advancing up the stairs now, their shouting getting angrier as the men climbed.

He finished pulling his coat on over his sweater, shoving the colt under his belt and then pulling his shirt, the sweater, and the coat over it to hid the bulk. He pulled the sweater's hood up over his head, zipping his bag shut and slinging it over his shoulder. They were at the end of the hall now, their footsteps like thunder. The teen briskly walked to his window, sliding it open and swinging himself out onto the section of rooftop outside. He paused, looking back over his shoulder at the smirking corpse lying in the center of his room. He smiled. "You won't regret this, I swear."

The door flung open, three men throwing themselves into the room all at once.  
"It's Leo!" The first yelled.  
"He's dead!" The second angrily screamed, "where's the god damned bag! Where did he hide it!? Find it!" The men began searching, which meant grabbing the first thing within reach and smashing it. The one who seemed to be in charge flipped the bed up on it's side, but stopped halfway through the action. His mouth hung open, and only a startled grunt escaped his mouth before the others turned and saw the reason for his sudden halt.  
"What the fuck?"

Two boxes of grenades lay beneath the piece of furniture, more strapped to the bottom of the bed in rows. A wire was looped through the pin of all the hanging object, if the bed was to be pulled upright completely on it's side the wire would pull the pin out of all or most of the grenades all at once.  
"Heh... at least you saw that before you killed us all, just put the bed down slowly..." Something whizzed by the ma's face, bouncing off the wall with a thunk and rolling across the floor, finally coming to rest at his feet. The third finally piped up. "Is that a-"  
"I've always hated you guys."  
"Fuck you two."

Vashyron could feel the explosion in the ground when his trap set off. All the paper-basket training he had been doing lately paid off, his shot had sailed through the air and made it through the window even from that distance. He turned and looked over his shoulder, smoldering pieces of iron, steel, and the remnants of a large blue recliner were still in mid-decent, and some even on fire.

He allowed himself a sigh, hearing the screams of people who were running toward the explosion to witness the carnage. How much of an idiot could one man be, why did Leo come to HIM of all people? He didn't even know who this Hummingbird or whatever person was, how was he expected to find her? There had to be better experienced people than he, maybe Leo had been left with no choice? Sure they'd spent a lot of time together his first three years, the guy taught him nearly everything he knew, but they hadn't even spoken for two years. No letters, no notice, no nothing, one day the guy had just up and disappeared, only to come back with some secret mission for him.

Not exactly the happy reunion the nineteen year old had expected. He pulled his bloody hands further inside of his sweater. "Well then, where to first?"

* * *

**A/N:: Awe snap! So I was writing this instead of the Vashy x Zeph story, but there is soooo much muse right now! Plus it will fill you in on my version of Vashyron's story! Okay I'll admit, I even already know where this is going plus how it ends, and by the way this story is going to be my parodyish/own version remake thing of a movie I loooooove. The connection isn't really apparent right now, and that's not really how it happens but if anyone can guess what this side story is based on later on down the road, I'll give you a cookie - oh and design a character after you to put in the plot of course. Also, I need a name for a character, so if anyone can guess what my favorite outfit is for Vashyron in the game I'll let you pick the name! No matter how... interesting his name may be.**


	8. So Close and Yet

**A/N:: Hey guys! I'm back! The Easter special, for those of you who care, will be continued upon as a separate story called, well that's just it I have no idea what to call it! If you'd like to send me your opinion please e-mail me at Shroudth or write me a private message on fanfiction! I'll probably have something thought up by the end of the week but meh, I'm lazy (you all already knew that thought right?). Orz**  
**The ES is about Vashy's past and contains some of the background story for a few of the characters you'll meet in this story, while not necissary to read it will give all these random characters Vashyron is acquainted with some fleshing out. Also, Vashyron is a badass. Cough. Anyways, here's the long awaited next chapter, will Vashyron finally get to confront Zephyr about his betrayal!? Well lets find out shall we...**

_Zephyr, Vashyron and other elements relating to Resonance of Fate the video game belong to Square Enix and aligned third parties._

* * *

Zephyr rolled over, his head pounding and his breathing ragged. The first thing he noticed was that his hands were bound together, and the second thing he noticed was so were his feet. He awkwardly pulled himself into a sitting position, which would have been a lot harder if they had thought to tie his hands behind his back. They? He remembered his last few moments of consciousness and his aching head responded with obvious confirmation.  
"Awake now boy?"

Zephyr's head turned immediately toward the voice and he regretted the action. It didn't take much for the man standing next to him to kick him back down, and down Zephyr stayed.  
"Look," the voice said, "It's not like I _wanted_ to do this to you, but orders are orders you know?" From his position on the floor the teen struggled to identify the source of the voice. He recognized the man from before, the one that seemed to be in charge. He was bald, the tattoo of a snake coiled around his neck came to an end open-mouthed just before his left eye. The matching the silver snake earring looped up and over his ear, where its slender, ruby eyes stared down at Zephyr. He wore a white t-shirt showing off his lean, muscular body, a viper in mid-flight pictured on the front. Blue-jeans, a black snakeskin belt and snakeskin shoes completed the outfit. Zephyr was starting to see a theme going on here.

The dark-haired man next to Zephyr wore a similar outfit: white shirt, blue jeans, and the tattoo of a snake around his wrist. It was then he noticed that it was only the three of them in the room. Where had their accomplice gone?  
"So I'll be blunt, you're our bait. We get _him_, you go free, he escapes and you die. Got it?"  
"Well enough." Zephyr growled. "What makes you think he'll come after me?"  
"He's been out all afternoon looking for some brat that ran away from home. We've been watching you kid, you've obviously done something to gain his trust if he's that worried about ya. The higher-ups figure we can't pass up this chance to get in a blow against that heathen Vashyron."

Vashyron? Zephyr stared at him for a second, and then burst out laughing. The bald man narrowed his eyes.  
"What's so funny?"  
Zephyr calmed down enough to speak, though a few giggles slipped through here and there.  
"You think, he's coming to _save_ me!? Heck, if he comes after me at all it'd be to kill me. I don't blame the guy though, I tried to do the same not so long ago."  
The two men exchanged glances, having a silent conversation. The one standing next to him bent down, grabbing a fistful of Zephyr's blonde hair and tugging his head back painfully.  
"Even better," he smiled, "That man isn't the sort to leave his debts unpaid."

The iron stairs groaned beneath his weight. The building was old, seeming like it could just fall apart at any moment. It showed signs of being lived in recently. There were scuffs on the worn, wooden floors where dust had been swept away to erase tracks, clever and stupid at the same time. The building was cold, but a long crack between metal panels exposed a heated vent carrying warmth to some of the rooms. Originally this area had been constructed with the idea of creating a relaxed, more realistic environment. Fake grass on - what was it called again - the lawn, wallpaper, wooden or tiled flooring, Vashyron never really got the appeal of the whole thing, but in all its glory it could never hide the cold, lifeless surface beneath it, with time it fell into ruin and was forgotten. This eerie section of Basel fell prey to the more criminal half of its residents soon after it had been abandoned by society all those years ago. At least that's what the rumors say.

He had not seen or heard anyone yet, and so he continued to advance silently through the halls. He ventured a few times from the stairwell into warmer halls, coming to a halt at a partially opened door. Light was streaming through the three inch crack from what looked like a large living room. From his viewpoint he could see the a lamp, the shade removed, standing alone in the center. He shifted trying to get a better look. The door creaked a little, swinging on rusty hinges as he accidentally brushed against it. It slowly, and loudly, swung open all the way even when Vashyron made a surprised attempt to catch the door.

_Well time to go._ He turned to flee, but a stack of bags slumped in the corner caught his eye. Against his better judgement he entered the room. Vashyron's dark shadow was cast against the wall, watching him from the safety of the corner with curiosity, to which soon after thinking it he realized how creepy that was. He kneeled over the pile, picking up one of the clear plastic bags to examine it closer. It was a good quality, made by someone who knew how to do their job, and well by the look of it. Who exactly had Zephyr allied himself with?

He squinted at what looked to be a watermark on the corner of the plastic, but it was too dark to make out. Wait... was it- no. He turned, barely having enough time to throw the bag as hard as he could at the face of the man sneaking up on him. In an explosion of white dust, which worked a lot better then he thought it was going to, Vashyron bolted from the room.

Back in the hallway he started running, halted, turned, and took off in the opposite direction, a snarling beast at his heels. The dog caught up only feet from the end of the hallway, leaping at Vashyron who ducked at the last second. A knife sliced through the air above him, the metal snake hanging from its dark collar clearly visible from that position. The man took a second to regain his balance and kicked hard at it. The beast yelped and jumped away from the human. Vashyron took this chance to cross the remaining distance to the stairwell, where he slammed the heavy door behind him.

He sighed with relief and leaned his back against the door. His suspicions had been right after all, there was no way anyone could mistake that monster of a pet. The door lurched and Vashyron heard deep growling from behind the iron. He took that as his cue to move on.

Three men sprinted up the stairs, and Vashyron climbed in their opposite direction. He wasn't here to turn this into a bloodbath, but if he had to... Wait. He grabbed onto the railing, stopping himself at the top of a landing. This door was propped open, the air warmer here than the rest of the building, and there were voices. He looked over his shoulder, his pursuers far behind him now. He cautiously walked the narrow passage, his gun held at the ready. This was probably a trap, but that was alright. He smiled. _ I like a challenge._

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**A/N:: So close and yet so far, but I'm sure the next chapter will hold better results (There is such a thing as drawing it out TOO far, not even I could handle another chapter without a confrontation haha). As a way to make up for this useless chapter I'll have the next one up within a two-day time period (lucky ducks). See you next time!**


	9. Desperation

**A/N:: Haha... for some reason I listened to Simon Curtis - Hypnotized the entire four hours it took me to write this. What? Don't look at me like that I get distracted and change things around in chapters a lot. Besides, I'm doing research by playing the game as I go to remind myself of some of the key RoF features. :D Just research, I swear.**

_Zephyr, Vashyron and other elements relating to Resonance of Fate the video game belong to Square Enix and aligned third parties._

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Something was off, the hallway swayed. Vashyron staggered. He took a deep breath and gently patted his coat where he could feel blood seeping through the make-shift bandaging. Just a little longer he told himself. _You haven't failed me before, don't start now. We've been in worse conditions._ Somehow, that didn't seem to comfort him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself enough to peek around a corner into the only room open to the hall.

A bullet whizzed by his face, lodging itself in the wall across from him.  
"What a heartwarming welcome." He ducked into the room, barely avoiding another shot aimed at his head. The blonde charged the first person he saw, an older man he guessed by the grey strands in his hair. He got off his own shot, grabbing the man and swinging behind him in time to avoid the gunfire that came down on them from the other two gunmen in the room. A bullet in his leg, one in his shoulder, and three in his chest Vashyron's first victim went slack. He heaved the body toward the two other men, thanked the building's designer for making the rooms so small, and leapt forward. In one second a knife was in his left hand, in the second it was burying itself into the thigh of the man on the left.

The other dove, a bullet grazing his arm and leaving a nasty gash. The second bullet connected with his wrist, knocking the gun from his hand in a spray of blood. Vashyron turned and stepped to the side, avoiding a sloppily thrown punch and grabbing the man's arm. His second hand resting on the man's back, the hunter pulled the man down and rammed his knee into his gut. In a blind fury the man lashed out with his free arm, only to have Vashyron step back, grab this new appendage and snap it. The man screamed and tried to run. Vashyron held fast to his arm, using it to hold him in place as he grabbed the knife, twisting and withdrawing it from its flesh sheath.

The weapon turned in his palm, finding and pursuing its new target. The final opponent threw up his arms. An attack aimed at his head instead pierced his forearm. Vashyron blinked, he had to admit the guy had fast reflexes. The man ripped the blade from his arm with his good hand, laughing hysterically as he wound up to kill the man with his own throwing weapon. He fell dead, a bullet to his forehead.  
"Don't fight guns with knives idiot."

A moan on his right. In the next room lay a small body, his blonde hair easily recognizable in the moonlight filtering in through a window. Vashyron smiled, he'd found his target at last. Time to finish this little errand of his. He walked toward Zephyr, a hand pressed hard against his wound. It was bleeding a lot for such a little scratch, and it had caused more complications for him today than he would have liked. His vision wavered a little. Vashyron laughed under his breath, struggling to steady his aim while breathing so hard. He couldn't... seem to get a steady breath.

The boy's body was bruised and cut, so they hadn't been working together after all huh? At least they'd left him alive long enough for Vashyron to kill him himself. He twitched.  
"There he is!"  
The hunter jumped backward, one of the two bullets fired tearing a hole in his pants.  
"Hey! These were custom made!" He straightened, ignoring the fire licking at his ribs.  
"Not even _you_ will need them where you're going. No one in hell cares if your jeans are ripped right?"  
Vashyron sighed, facing the bald man straight on, a cocky smirk on his lips.  
"Look West, I know we have quite a bit of catching up to do, but I'm a little busy at the moment, you know?" He motioned toward the unconscious boy with the colt. "You know better than anyone I don't like-"

"You've been blacklisted."  
Vashyron stopped, trading hardened glares with West. He had been exchanging blows with West and his 'friends' for a long time, the last few years in-particular they'd had a few... disagreements sure, but nothing that would warrant blacklisting.  
"By who?"  
West and his two bodyguards moving closer, their guns trained on Vashyron.  
"It was more of a... cooperative agreement. But if you're asking who brought it to light, then maybe you should ask someone from the north." He paused, stopping a few meters away. "Well too late now right? Nothing I can do about a blacklisting." The man smiled, patting the shoulders of the two standing in front of him.  
"No use in drawing this out any longer boys."

He really should learn to just let it go sometimes, in the end it was his determined pursuit of the little runt that had promised his soul to the reaper. Even if the boy was his responsibility, even if he _had_ tried to shoot him, would it have killed him to give himself some time to recover a bit before going after him? No. It wouldn't have, see that's the point. He sighed. Well, at least he wasn't about to go down alone, that would ruin his reputation.

Vashyron raised his gun, the men reacted fast, but Vashyron was faster. He knocked one of the men's guns away as it fired, hooking his leg around the enemy's and shoving him back hard. The man tripped, falling backward with a yelp and a knife in his heart. More gunfire. Vashyron slipped around the second through the gap, moving as fast as his legs allowed him. He pulled the gun up, but West punched him hard. Vashyron's vision spun from the blow, but he brought the butt of the pistol down against the larger man's chest. West wheezed, reaching out and knocking the colt from the hunter's hand. West kicked the weapon hard, far beyond Vashyron's reach.

They grappled. West pushed hard against Vashyron, whose adrenaline was rapidly fading. He couldn't feel his arms anymore, his legs threatening to buckle against the weight of his opponent.  
"What are you doing!? Shoot him!" West roared.  
"B-but sir!"  
Vashyron had every confidence that the man wouldn't shoot, he wouldn't risk hitting his boss. Not that it mattered either way, this was it. He was at his limit.

The world was a hazy mix of jumbled words and throbbing pain. Everything hurt. Nothing was broken or permanently damaged, Zephyr was sure of that, but it hurt just the same. Something cold touched his hand, soothing the heat for a moment. His eyes cracked open, blinded by the light coming from the other room. His hands and feet were no longer bound, they obviously didn't see the point in keep an unconscious kid tied up now did they? He tried opening his eyes again, blinking several times over a minute or two before finally being able to focus on the object the had disturbed him.

He blinked again. Was he seeing things? He gently rose to a sitting position, stretching out the soreness of sleeping on the floor. He flinched in pain, pulling a bruised muscle into an uncomfortable position, but it felt good to be able to stretch nonetheless. He plucked the item from the floor, holding the gun up to the light to examine it. It felt oddly familiar to him. Ah, this was the same one he had held before when he had... well, yeah. Why was it here?

A shout from just outside the room startled him. Clutching the weapon to his chest Zephyr stood and made his way to the door. One of the bald guy's thugs had his back turned to him, and beyond two men wrestled for control. The smaller one was obviously losing, a bullet hole in his left shoulder. He gripped the gun tighter. _Those are the bastards that tried to kill me._ Time to return the favor.

Two loud bangs were followed by shocked silence. Seconds seemed to slow as all eyes turned toward him. The dark haired thug began screaming, clawing at his chest where the bullets sat beneath the skin. He gasped for air, his shredded lungs trying desperately to expand. A flash of steel from across the room brought forth a shower of blood, the snake wrapped around the bald guy's neck unraveling to reveal severed veins and arteries. The bald man gave one last look of terror, opened his mouth, and collapsed at the smaller man's feet in a heap of flesh.

No one moved for a while, Zephyr still a little confused about the whole thing. Vashyron turned.  
"You." he snarled. Life suddenly sprung forth in Zephyr's hands, he pulled the trigger. He was met with a hollow click. He'd been here before, he knew what was coming next. This time he would really-! His eyes went wide, he abandoned the gun on the wet floor alongside the bodies of six men, turned and fled. A window! Which, conviniently led out onto a fire escape. He scowled at the metal, recalling the last time he used a fire escape to get away from his pursuer.  
"Get back here Zephyr!"  
Out onto the fire escape he went.

It took him a horrifying moment to realize they were eighteen stories up, and that the last fifteen floors of the fire escape were huddled in a rusted heap at the foot of the building.  
"Bastard!"  
Zephyr went up, if he could reach a window on another floor he could loose Vashyron inside and slip out onto the street again. The first window he tried was locked. The next floor then! But the nineteenth floor fire escape window was locked too. Vashyron had dragged himself out onto the fire escape and was closing the distance fast. _How could he even be moving with those kinds of wounds!?_ Zephyr tugged hard on the twentieth floor window.  
"Really!?" It too was locked. Vashyron was one level below him, climbing faster now, almost desperately.

Zephyr scrambled up the ladder, its old, rusted rungs scraping against his palms. The older blonde reached the top platform just as Zephyr pulled his legs over the edge of the roof.  
"Stop running!"  
Yeah right. Zephyr ran faster, needing to reach the door and get inside before Vashyron could reach him. He sprinted, so close to freedom. He tripped, stumbling but managing to keep upright. Only a little farther! He didn't dare look over his shoulder, knowing full well Vashyron was right behind him.

"Yes!" He cried out in relief as he reached the door, risking a glance only to find Vashyron was only just now pulling himself up over the lip of the rooftop. He got away! Zephyr tugged the door open. It was locked.  
"No way!" He tried again, and again, and then twice more after that. He smashed his fist against the door in anger. "Are you kidding me!"  
"Doors don't joke around runt." Zephyr spun, Vashyron had caught up. His hair wild and his brown eyes burning with anger the hunter breathed hard, trying to catch his breath. The shaking gun was gripped in his otherwise limp arm, a new .

He was wounded, maybe if he could get to him before he aimed the gun! Zephyr sprinted forward. He had barely traveled four of the eight meters between them when he came to an abrupt halt, the gun aimed directly at his head.  
"Damnit!" Zephyr yelled in anger. "This wasn't supposed to happen!"  
"There are a _lot_ of things that weren't supposed to to happen today." Vashyron took a calming breath, forcing himself to keep his aim steady. "This on the other hand," he cocked the gun, "was _very much supposed to happen_."

In that moment Zephyr was sure everyone in Basel could heart his heart hammering in his chest. His fists drawn up in some kind of half-hearted defiance he searched for something, anything that could help him get out of this! Vashyron left no openings, no shielding of any kind was nearby, and no weapon was there for Zephyr to use. Hell, he'd kill for a shard of usable glass right at the moment. He'd already made up his mind, he didn't want to die! He'd decided to live, even if he didn't deserve to, he _wanted_ to! He'd been given a second chance, and after everything that had happened- _I screwed it up._ _I hesitated when I should have pulled the trigger._

Zephyr could hear shouts coming from behind the door. Angry grunts probably come to take out their anger on the big bad boss killers.  
"Looks like neither of us are getting out of here alive." The younger found something strangely hilarious about the situation. He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. His killer gave him one final, curious look, then the door burst open. Vashyron pulled the trigger.

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**A/N:: Somehow I've just come up with new content for Vashyron's past story, the ES could get pretty interesting, and the more I type about these guys the more and more I get muse for it tee hee (It's very useful when muse from one story fuels another). Anyway, I wonder what will happen in the next chapter! Vashyron still hasn't confronted Zephyr yet though... heh... heheh...**

**P.S. It occurred to me that Zephyr managed to land just fine falling from chandelier, but is somehow freaked out by fifteen stories?**


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